


Wait For Me

by Russandork



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, As well as family fluff to balance out said angst, Gen, Violence to be included near the last chapter, post-Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russandork/pseuds/Russandork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can let this destroy you, and you would be blameless for the choosing. Or you can rise from it.” [Open Wounds, ch.12].</p><p>The Enemy thought savage tortures and humiliation would succeed in breaking Maedhros in body and spirit, but he should have known that the light of Aman is not so easily extinguished. </p><p>[Gift fic for 'theeventualwinner', who wrote the wonderfully feelsy story this work is based on and acts as a sort of continuation to. There are plenty of references to the original work, Open Wounds, especially in the first chapter, so all credit goes to the original author for all the events that I have and will be referencing.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resolve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theeventualwinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeventualwinner/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Open Wounds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818529) by [theeventualwinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeventualwinner/pseuds/theeventualwinner). 



> So here I am, with my very first contribution to the Silmarillion fandom, and with a lengthy fanfic no less! A **huge** thank you to _'theeventualwinner'_ for allowing me to expand upon her original (and fantastic) work. I sincerely hope I am making it justice with this small addition of mine, but I will leave it up to you to judge. And seriously guys, if you have not read Open Wounds yet, you should totally go do it right now; it is a wonderful read.
> 
> Overall theme to this chapter (listening to it is recommended, but of course not mandatory): [Hawke Family Theme by Inon Zur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnjuV3gvHCw&index=2&list=PLE4078EDDAE31D90B)
> 
> **Note:** this first chapter takes place several weeks after chapter 12 of Open Wounds.

In little over a week, the rain had stopped, finally leaving a chance for the sun to shine through patches of clouds. The strong winds had subdued and morphed into a soft and cold breeze that gently shook the Fëanorian banners. All in all, it was a welcome change that many, if not all, of the Noldor in the camp praised and reveled in. Yet the change in the weather was not the only good thing time had brought with itself.

Being the ones most often in Maedhros’ company, Maglor and Fingon picked up on his new behavior sooner and how starkly it contrasted with what they had seen in the past. Maedhros’ appetite gradually came back once more: there was an almost childish eagerness in the way he again accepted and dug into his meals that his companions could not help but watch him in both surprise and joy. Some nights Maedhros would ask for a small portion of seconds, to the delight of those keeping him company, though unease would seep into his every mannerism and posture until he was reassured with the sight of another bowl of soup or the half loaf of bread he had asked for. And to Maedhros’ own delight, they would not judge him or deceive him by taking his food away, which served as further encouragement for him to fight malnutrition and the gauntness of his figure.

Within a few days color had returned to Maedhros’ cheeks, and the hopes for his recovery once more ran high.

The improvement in the physical aspect of his health also carried over to the mental one. Maedhros was focusing on his learning with far more diligence than ever before, actively participating in the lessons he was being taught, but the first obstacle to overcome was relearning everything that he had forgotten in his disinterest and indifference. But with further efforts, that knowledge came back to him without much difficulty, and soon enough he began to further hone his skills.

“Do you remember what was on this part of the map, Nelyo?” Amras asked softly, covering the names on the map as best he could.

At Maedhros’ request early in the evening, Amras had returned with his maps to show Maedhros the new territories and regions that had been added. With the experience of unfruitful lessons in the back of his mind, Amras had started slowly, tentatively, expecting Maedhros to act as distant as he had been wont to do in the past, but relief gradually loosened the knot of tension that had tightened up in his stomach.

Maedhros cocked his head to the side, squinting at the map as he made the effort to remember, and then nodded, that very simple movement radiating a liveliness that Amras had not seen in what felt like years.

“It was… It was Nevrast and the marshes, and then down south were the Falas with the two rivers, Brithon and Ne… Nenning, I-I think. And down there is where you went, isn’t it? Where you met the tree-lady?” Maedhros rested his fingertip on the southeastern forest depicted on the bottom of the map.

“Yes, that’s the place!” Amras took his hands off the map. “And what was it that I told you about gathering your bearings if you get lost?”

Last time, that question had gone unanswered, completely ignored by Maedhros and left to hang in an uncomfortable silence. But with amusement Amras watched as Maedhros straightened and lightly puffed out his chest in a small show of pride.

“To watch the sun. If it sets on the direction you’re facing, that’s the West, and the East is directly opposite to it. Then… Then North is to your ri—Yes, the right and South is to your left.” Maedhros had become so engrossed in formulating his answer that it was only when he fell silent that he realized what he had actually said, and he directed a shy look towards Amras. “Did… Did I say it right?”

Amras could not hold back a pleased smile, an ephemeral show of the delight that had filled his heart to the brim. “You did! I’m… I’m so glad that you remember.”

A short but sudden moment of silence fell between them. Maedhros stared down at the map, looking but not really seeing. “…Pityo?”

“Mhm?”

“…will I be able to accompany you on your next trip?” Maedhros’ voice contained no small amount of nervousness, and out of reflex he shielded his abdomen with his left arm. “I just… I want to see the map in reality, h-how everything really looks. Maybe… Maybe I could see the tree-lady you told me about and I could thank her for the fruits. If you go there again… could I come with you?”

A pang of sorrow struck Amras’ heart at the sight of Maedhros looking at him like a small animal facing its predator. His throat clenched up under the grip of some invisible hand, and for a moment Amras was unable to speak. Glad he was because of Maedhros’ initiative, of his desire to extend his knowledge of the world beyond the tent he resided in, to _spend time_ with him… But that gladness also brought sorrow with itself, for Maedhros spoke as if Amras were to consider him little more than a nuisance.

Eventually Maedhros looked away, letting his head hang in defeat.

“Of course you can, Nelyo,” Amras said immediately, his tone soft. “When your legs get better and you can ride a horse again, we’ll go on a trip, you and me.”

“Really?” Hope sparkled in Maedhros’ eyes as he raised his head, the hint of a smile on his lips. “…th-thank you.”

That night, Maedhros succumbed to sleep with thoughts of green forests and sparkling rivers and a shining sun, the faintest of smiles on his face.

But for all the betterment of his condition, the night would still interrupt his sleep with dark images and nightmares. Maglor would be with him through most of them, cradling Maedhros to his chest when he woke up among tears and incoherent words of fears that would not go away. Maglor could do little other than hold him, stroking his hair and whispering soft words of comfort. Eventually Maedhros would calm and go back to sleep; the rest of the night would go uninterrupted.

It was the one thing that brought solace to Maglor’s heart, seeing his brother sleep in peace. He could only hope Maedhros had found at last a road, _the_ road, towards recovery. This suffering and torment he was going through surely had to end soon.

\------

Without breaking the trend established in the past few weeks, Maedhros did his best on that morning’s lesson with Fingon. As a way of changing the pace of things, Fingon had said, they would spend the morning in a conversation rather than an actual lesson, but with a catch.

“We speak only in Sindarin.”

Maedhros’ brow furrowed as doubt crept over his features, but with gentle coaxing from Fingon he was persuaded into trying. To Fingon’s delight and Maedhros’ surprise, his speech flowed smoothly, rarely tripping over a mispronunciation or an incorrectly-worded sentence, and the tension that had gathered in Maedhros’ shoulders ebbed away as he grew more comfortable. His progress was all the more steady thanks to the notes he jotted down on a sheaf of parchment, most of them regarding the very few mistakes Fingon pointed out.

“You shouldn’t worry about copying, Nelyo,” said Fingon with as much kindness as he could muster, amusement blooming within as he watched his cousin scrunch up his face as he concentrated on writing. “We can go over this as many times as you need.”

But stubbornly Maedhros shook his head and continued writing until he was satisfied with his notes; only then he looked up as an indication that he was ready to continue talking. With their speaking practice over, they then dabbled in vocabulary and translation from one dialect to another, and Maedhros would ask to see how more complex words in Quenya corresponded to their equivalent in Sindarin, a request to which Fingon gladly acquiesced.

“…Nelyo? Nelyo, are you listening?”

Maedhros went as stiff as a plank as the realization dawned upon him: he had stopped paying attention in the middle of Fingon’s talk on word combination, and with a frightened note to his voice he proceeded to apologize.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Finno, I… I didn’t mean to...”

Whatever reasons Maedhros had for being afraid were gone the moment Fingon shook his head, dismissing the apologies with a smile. “It’s alright. We’ve done much today, and we started very early too,” he said as he left the book they had been using upon the chest of drawers.

“Did I…?” Maedhros drifted into silence and nervously fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, debating whether to finish his question or not but knowing that either course of action could lead to doubt. When Fingon made no attempts to speak up, Maedhros met his cousin’s eyes.

“Did I do okay?”

The gentle smile that lit up Fingon’s features did much to put Maedhros at ease, and yet he still hesitated to believe that Fingon’s answer would be a positive one. Smiles had often been symbols of mockery, a show of others finding satisfaction in his misery, but Fingon wouldn’t act in such a way… would he? His hesitation morphed into nervousness that brought a feeling of nausea to his gut, and with wide and expectant eyes he watched Fingon sit beside him again.

“You did wonderfully, Nelyo.”

A wave of relief washed over Maedhros. There was truth to those words; he heard it, _sensed_ it, and held the warmth of that praise close to his heart.

“You’re doing _so_ well with everything else, too,” Fingon continued, his eyes never once straying away from Maedhros’, his voice dripping with gentle mirth as he spoke. “You’re making every so happy and so proud of you.”

“You…you mean that, Finno?”

“Yes!”

Fingon caught the vehemence in his tone a bit too late, but to his relief Maedhros did not flinch or cower away.

“Yes, I mean it,” he continued, his voice now mellowing. “We have all been so worried about you, you know this, and we never stopped believing that you would get better. And to see the fire within you burning in your eyes once more, small as its flame may yet be… Such a sight brings joy to our hearts, Nelyo. Ask anybody else – ask Turko or Pityo or Káno – and their answer will be the same as mine.”

And at the very mention of his name, Maglor ducked through the tent flaps, bringing a tray with three steaming cups of tea.

“And look, here he is!” Fingon exclaimed, unable to stifle a small chuckle, and Maedhros greeted his brother with a shy smile of his own. “And having completely forgotten his manners. Whatever happened to knocking on the post?”

“I _did_ knock, but you obviously didn’t hear me.” As he spoke, a slight note of humor in his tone, Maglor neared the bedside and offered the tray to Maedhros, the hint of a gentle smile playing at his lips. “I brought some tea, if either of you would like some. It may help against the chill in the air today.”

Maedhros reached for one of the cups and simply held it for several instants, allowing the warmth of the cup to seep through his fingertips and spread up his arm. The tray now empty, Maglor set it aside and pulled up a chair, taking a seat by his brother’s bedside.

“I hope I did not interrupt anything.”

Fingon opened his mouth to reply but found his own words spoken by Maedhros beside him. “I-It’s okay, Káno. We’d just finished with the lesson.” He softly blew on his tea and took a sip from it, looking at Maglor over the rim of the cup.

“Oh, had you?” Maglor murmured, his kind eyes also fixed upon his brother. He sipped his tea before continuing, “I take it Finno picked up from where you and I left off yesterday?”

Despite taking Maglor’s words as an invitation to speak, Maedhros still glanced at Fingon in an unspoken request for permission, only to receive an encouraging nod. His response gave way to a light-hearted conversation about aspects of grammar and syntax that Maedhros would learn with further practice. Though he showed interest in the matter, Maedhros did not participate in the conversation as much as listened to it.

Something else was prying at the back of his mind, another matter he wanted to bring to their attention. Fearful anticipation threatened to flare up within him once more; fear not of asking, but rather of the answer he would receive. Just the day before yesterday, Celegorm had prescribed at least five more days of immobility and rest, at least while Curufin worked on the final prototype of the brace. Maedhros recoiled at the thought of his request being denied by Maglor’s caution, even more so of going against Celegorm’s words, and yet there was a restlessness in his spirit that would not be quelled no matter how much he tried.

“Nelyo, are you alright?”

The question went nothing short of ignored; Maedhros’ attention was somewhere else completely. The cup of tea now nestled in the folds of the blankets, his hand came to rest on his half-flexed knee. He had fixed an intense stare on it, as though he could will it move with his mind, and unconsciously his grip tightened till his knuckles turned white.

“Nelyo?”

“I want to walk.”

For a few seemingly endless instants, all Maedhros received was silence. He could see concern gleaming in both Maglor and Fingon’s gazes, the way they hesitated to respond – if they even had a response for him – and by some miracle Maedhros didn’t let such things deter him. Confidence was blooming within him and he didn’t know where the source of it lay, but he would not let it slip through his fingers… not like the ephemeral light he had seen in his dreams, the light under which the darkness of his mind had cowered.

Maglor took it upon himself to act as the voice of reason. “Nelyo, you know that Turko said you needed a few more days of immobility. Any involuntary movement you make may cause you pain or present setbacks that hinder the healing of your shoulder.”

“Káno, I don’t mean downplay Turko’s prescription,” Fingon interjected, “but we could still help him up by grabbing onto his healthy arm. The other one need not be disturbed or moved at all.”

Resolution gave way to vehemence and Maedhros raised his voice before Maglor could answer. “I don’t _want_ to rest anymore! I… I want to try. I-I _have_ to try…” He made a pause and sighed, lowering his head and feeling tears pricking at his eyes. Maedhros rushed to rub at them, effectively wiping away the tears but leaving traces of them smeared over his skin.

“Káno, I… I don’t want to stay here anymore. I know that Turko told me not to move because it’s for the good of my shoulder but I want to do something else, like… I want to go with Telyo on his trips, to go outside a-and see Arien and Tilion as they carry the sun and the moon, to go with Turko when he leaves to collect plants and herbs… I want to do all that and a lot more. Staying here won’t help.

“I don’t want you to think that I am giving up… I don’t want to give up. I know that I wanted to – you know, before… when you were all taking care of me. But I wanted to give up _long_ before Finno came for me, e-even before they left me to hang from the mountain. I don’t want to feel like that anymore – I _can’t_ take it.

“I want to _get better._ ”

“Then let us not waste our breath,” Maglor spoke, his voice firm. Apparently Maedhros had not expected his speech to move Maglor into seeing things his way, because he stared in raw disbelief.

“You’re… you’re alright with it?” His voice was small and apprehensive despite the eagerness slowly creeping onto his features.

“Of course he is!” Fingon intervened, the cheerful note in his voice an attempt to ease Maedhros’ worry, and to support Fingon’s answer Maglor gave a nod of his own. “And besides, only Káno and I will know about this. You’re sure to surprise the others when they see you standing and walking on your own again!”

“Will it be a… a good kind of surprise?”

“Of course it will be, Nelyo,” Maglor spoke kindly. Out of reflex he rested his hand on Maedhros’ forearm, a touch that elicited no reaction from Maedhros other than a brief chuckle, and for that Maglor was infinitely glad. “Okay, we will go about this the same way we do it when I help you to the bathtub, alright? But if you feel that you need to sit back down, _please_ tell me.”

Fervently Maedhros nodded and, after handing the half-empty cup to Fingon, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, letting his toes touch the carpet before slinging his left arm over Maglor’s neck. Inhaling a sharp breath and readying himself for the effort he was about to make, Maedhros made to stand.

Every inch of movement hurt, dreadfully so, and a mewl of pain made its way past Maedhros’ lips, igniting a spark of concern within Maglor. Several moments of nervous silence followed his brother’s actions. Maglor half-expected to hear some sort of complaint or plea from Maedhros to be helped back down on the bed, but no such thing came. Instead, he gradually felt Maedhros leaning further away from him, taking on a minute fraction of his own weight for now.

“Easy, Nelyo. Lean on me, do not overexert yourself…”

Maedhros remained still as if frozen, his lips pursed into a thin line and brow furrowed as he withstood the pain that his actions brought to him. He stood on thin and shaky legs, his knees half-flexed and threatening to give out under him, but he willed himself to hold on, if only a little while longer. Eventually he tired and, guided by Maglor, sat back down on the bed. His breathing had quickened and beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face, which Maglor swiftly wiped away.

“That was good, Nelyo! Are you feeling alright?”

Maedhros nodded. “And I… I want to try again.”

“Nelyo, you—”

“Káno, _please_!” Maedhros practically begged, his fingers closing around Maglor’s tunic. “I… L-Let me try again.”

It was impossible to argue; how could he deny Maedhros’ plea? With a sigh of resignation, Maglor helped Maedhros back up, watching him endure the ache and discomfort with relatively more ease.

And then Maedhros inched a foot forward.

A bolt of uneasiness coursed through Maglor, the same feeling seeping into Fingon, and despite himself Maglor tried to keep his voice as calm as he could. “Nelyo, you’re trying to do too much at the same time…”

“J-Just… dr-drawers!”

With a gesture of his head, Maglor sent Fingon over to stand by the chest of drawers, which only laid a few paces away from where they were currently standing.

“All right, all right… Slowly, please, _slowly_ …”

“I… _know…_ ”

And keeping to his word Maedhros steadily made his way towards Fingon, his toes dragging across the carpet every time he lifted a foot forward. What in truth were a simple four paces felt like miles to Maedhros, but not once did his resolve buckle. Step by small step, it became easier for him to move, until he was finally passed over to Fingon, who held him by his arm and hip and let him lean against the drawers. Fingon shared a look with Maglor and spied the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Still doing fine, Nelyo?” Fingon asked softly as Maedhros steadied his breathing. “Do you think you can walk back to Káno?”

“Y-Yeah… I can…”

And so, with Fingon’s help, Maedhros retraced his steps. Occasional sounds of discomfort and pain would leave his lips whenever one of his knees threatened to give away under him, and his feet would hurriedly scramble to find stable support. On one of such moments, a spasm of pain ran up Maedhros’ leg and it faltered, his weight suddenly falling on Fingon and almost dragging him down to the floor. With Maglor’s intervention that outcome was avoided, and he and Fingon did their part on keeping Maedhros steady on his feet.

“F-Finno! S-Sorry… I’m sorry, I-!”

“Shh, Nelyo, it’s quite alright. We’re right next to the bed; you just need to take another step. You can do it.”

A few shaky intakes of breath later, Maedhros moved toward the bed and sat back down on the mattress, letting out a loud and heavy sigh as his body seemed to buckle under the weight of his exhaustion. Maglor sat by his side, gently touching his fingers to his shoulder, and as Maedhros sat up straight, tears began to wet his eyelashes. The way his breath hitched soon after was the telltale sign of an incoming outburst of tears.

“Hey… Hey, Nelyo, it’s alright,” Maglor spoke up, consoling his brother with as much reassurance and warmth as the ache in his heart would let him muster, and he reached up to dry Maedhros’ tears. “It’s okay. You did so well.”

But no amount of praise could keep Maedhros from crying, his shoulders wracked by soft sobs, and as Fingon sat to his cousin’s side he held him close in a one-armed embrace, Maedhros’ head nestled against his shoulder. Maglor bit down on the inside of his cheek as he waited for Maedhros to regain his composure, and he glanced towards the chest of drawers. Maedhros had done so much in just a matter of minutes and not only in terms of physical activity: the walls of helplessness that had been built around his mind were beginning to collapse; Maedhros was _making_ them collapse.

“K-Káno…”

His brother’s faint call broke through his reverie and called him back to reality; and truthfully, the sight that welcomed him was like a soothing balm that palliated the ache in his chest.

Maedhros was smiling, the gesture faint and tired, even as tear streaks continued to mark his cheeks. Sorrow had not driven him to tears, but happiness. “I’m… I’m getting better… aren’t I?”

Maglor swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. Before he could bring himself to speak, he took his brother’s hand in his, and to his delight Maedhros’ fingers curled around his hand in response.

He had lost count of how many days and weeks Maedhros had suffered during his recovery; of the amount of nights they had all spent watching over him, barely sleeping, but none of that seemed to matter now. All those weeks of agony and suffering, anxiety, concern, frustration and perseverance had culminated in this very moment, and Maglor would go through it all again if it meant to see Maedhros smile genuinely again and finally cast the darkness that had corroded his spirit to whence it had come.

The ability to form words now regained, Maglor gave a resolute answer.

“Yes. Yes you are, Nelyo.”


	2. Back To Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely ecstatic at how well this work was received; I cannot thank you guys enough! I can only hope this chapter is as well received as the last one, because this is where I'm actually taking a stab at some content that I _sincerely_ hope is medically accurate (pointing this out for all those who care about medical accuracy). Anyway, on with the reading and once again, thank you for the warm reception (which for me also doubles as a warm welcome to the fandom). I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
> 
> Chapter theme: [All's Well by Jeremy Soule](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qHinJ7C2P0)

* * *

 

“Sleep in peace, brother.”

And with that blessing, Maedhros finally let his eyes close and succumbed to drowsiness, his breathing calm and steady.

Maglor did not move from his spot by his brother’s bedside, watching him with the kindness and affection that his mother had passed down to him, and a smile ended up spreading across his lips as the minutes went by and Maedhros showed no sign of disturbed sleep. It was such a welcome sight, one that brought peace and immeasurable relief to him, and he fostered the hope that those restless nights were gone for good. Perhaps he was getting in over his head, the cautious part of him wanted to say; Maedhros’ condition had just begun improving again, and perhaps time yet had something in store for him that would mercilessly dash that hope to bits.

He shuddered at the thought, a wave of uneasiness rippling through his stomach. This period of good fortune had to last, if only for Maedhros’ sake. Maglor clenched his eyes shut and hastily shook his head, banishing all the negative thoughts from his mind; it was late, and Maglor knew himself well enough to know that that streak of pessimistic thinking was a product of his tiredness catching up to him. As he opened his eyes again, they fell upon his left hand, gently held by Maedhros’ own, and Maglor could not calm the affection that swelled in his chest, though he forced back the sudden urge to sweep Maedhros into an embrace.

It felt like an eternity since he had done such a thing. The realization itself was saddening but true to his own resolve, Maglor cast that feeling away and focused solely on the thought that followed: given time, he would be able to remedy that.

The soft sound that rose in Maedhros’ throat quickly shifted Maglor’s focus of attention to him but to his relief, Maedhros did nothing but sink further into the pillows and slightly hold on to Maglor’s hand tighter. As he pushed a few russet locks away from his brother’s forehead, Maglor heard a gentle knock on the tent post, and then Celegorm was ducking through the tent flaps. Halfway through the motion, though, Maglor silently shooed him away, gesturing at Maedhros’ sleeping form when a questioning look passed through Celegorm’s features, followed by one of understanding. Having extricated his hand from Maedhros’ hold, Maglor stepped out of the tent, welcoming Celegorm back from his absence by the light of the campfire.

“You were gone longer than any of us expected. Did something happen along the way?”

“A herd of deer happened,” said Celegorm with a cheerful note in his tone. Before offering further explanation, he sat to warm himself by the fire, Maglor following suit, and Huan curled up between them, his head resting on Celegorm’s thigh.

“I know that I was originally only gone to restock on herbs, but Huan picked up on the trail as we were making our way out the forest and I just _had_ to track that herd down, even if it took us an additional day to catch up to it.”

He made a pause, his gaze fixed on the fire and almost absently reaching to scratch Huan behind the ears. “It gave me some time to get my mind off of things, as well. It’s helped, spending a while in my element; my mind feels a bit less clogged up.”

“We’ve all been in need of doing that lately, clearing our minds,” Maglor sighed. “After all that’s happened, I’m not surprised.” A smile tugged at his lips as he spoke and he sat back, leaning on the palms of his hands. “Though as of late, the camp hasn’t been such a bad place to be.”

Celegorm’s lips curved into a brief smile as he looked over at Maglor. “Things continue to look up?”

“Five weeks, Turko. Five weeks and there is a world of difference between the Nelyo back then and the Nelyo right now. You have been here through most of it and seen how much he has progressed, but the mere fact that it is holding up… And it is a good thing that you also restocked our food supplies, too, because asking for seconds at dinner is becoming a habit of his now! He did tonight again, in fact.”

“That’s great to hear… though I cannot help but point out he’s not the only one making sure work of our reserves, brother.”

Maglor gestured at Huan, knowing full well that Celegorm’s playful accusation was in no way aimed at the hound. “Well, he is a large animal. That size has to come from somewhere.”

And in the blink of an eye, Maglor found himself with Celegorm’s hand against his forehead, his eyes wide with surprise and boring into Maglor’s. A few awkward seconds of silence dragged by, and Maglor glanced around nervously and almost squirmed under his brother’s intense and rather owlish scrutiny.

“Uh, Turko, what in the Varda’s name are you—?”

“I think you might be feverish, Káno.”

“What?” Maglor immediately touched his hands to his face; his skin was warmer than usual but that was surely because of his proximity to the fire. Nervously he bit down on his lip. He had spent more and more time with Maedhros lately, so was it due to something he had caught from him? Had Maedhros been sick and they hadn’t even noticed? Or worse: did Maedhros run the risk of falling ill now because of him?

“Because I think I just heard you make a joke.”

Celegorm’s words yanked Maglor out of his reverie and derailed his concerned train of thought, and Maglor was left in a sort of daze and blinking at his brother in confusion. Celegorm, on the other hand, was _smiling_ in satisfaction, the same way he always did whenever he—

And then it clicked.

“…you did _not_!”

It took Maglor no longer than a heartbeat to slap his brother’s shoulder, looking every bit the part of a pouting child. “Damnit, Turko, that wasn’t funny! You can’t just joke about— After all that’s happened and you still—”

But there was no answer from his brother other than his laughter, and that was a problem. Ever since he was young, Celegorm’s laughter had always been contagious and few could ever keep themselves from at least chuckling, which proved to be the downfall of their composure because there was no backing away after that. The only one who could keep a straight face in Celegorm’s company, with arguably some effort, was Curufin. But Maglor was not about to invoke whatever kind of strength helped his younger brother maintain his composure, and soon enough he was laughing alongside Celegorm.

It felt good to do so; more importantly, it felt _right._

“I am _so_ sorry, Káno, but I could not let the chance pass me by!” said Celegorm once he had sobered, smiling at his brother while resting a hand on his shoulder. “I know that after going through that much stress these past few weeks, jokes of this sort may be of bad taste, especially to a worrywart like you, and for that I apologize.”

Maglor stiffened, looking at Celegorm with narrowed eyes and light indignation in his tone, though it was a poor way of disguising his amusement. “Look at you, falling back into the habit of calling me names.”

Celegorm merely shrugged in response.

“My concern was not misplaced, though,” Maglor insisted. “Had you been serious, I would have thought that Nelyo had come down with something and he had passed it onto me, or vice versa; either one of those scenarios is a reasonable cause for unease.”

“Well, _now_ you know I was joking.”

Maglor snickered. “For a moment, I could have sworn you weren’t.”

“You suddenly reminded me of myself when Írissë did this sort of thing to me,” Celegorm sighed. “I fell for it all the time. Even when I thought I knew she was about to tease me, she still found a way to get around my suspicion. At first I found it annoying, but I grew used to it after a while and… even found it endearing.”

Maglor listened, picking up on the wistful note in Celegorm’s tone despite the attempt at making it sound neutral and even nonchalant. This was the first time he had mentioned Aredhel, unprompted, since they had left Aman, and hearing Celegorm speak of her with a small touch of melancholy brought a light feeling of sorrow to Maglor’s heart.

“You miss her, don’t you?” The question left Maglor’s lips before he could stop himself, and though he hastened to apologize he was unable, as if nervousness was shoving the words down his throat to keep them from coming out. Celegorm had grown stiff and his jaw was set, subtle changes in his posture that were glaringly obvious to someone well-versed in body language like Maglor. Huan himself noticed the change in his master’s disposition and nuzzled his head under Celegorm’s chin, releasing a soft whine.

“Let’s just say that Nelyo wasn’t the only one who did not wish to take part in the burning of the ships.”

“I… I’m sorry, Turko, I didn’t—”

At this Celegorm seemed to relax, his shoulders drooping as he focused on petting and ruffling Huan’s fur. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s me who’s at fault: I shouldn’t have brought her up.” A moment of hesitation made him falter, and he shot a sideways glance at his brother. “…but it’s also your fault for being so damn easy to talk to.”

Maglor smiled sadly. “As Moryo once elegantly put it, ‘You just seem to rip the words right out of my throat and only mother is supposed to do that’.”

Celegorm snorted a laugh, playfully kicking at Maglor’s foot. “You’re basically mother’s substitute. But to answer your question, even though I know you’re aware of the answer… Yes, I do miss Írissë, but you’d better not breathe a word of this to _anybody_ , Káno.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Celegorm’s only thanks came in the form of a nod, which was followed by a thankfully calm stretch of silence. Maglor leaned back and looked heavenward, watching the stars shine behind the thin blanket of clouds that covered the sky, and out of the blue he remembered something he had yet to share with his brother.

The mere thought of it brought another smile to Maglor’s face and called Celegorm’s attention with a kick to his boot. “Try to guess what Nelyo has been doing lately.”

It took Celegorm a moment to answer, as he had become focused on undoing the ribbon that tied his hair back. “What?”

“He’s been walking.”

Disbelief drew itself all over Celegorm’s features and his speech failed him; even Huan himself seemed surprised, looking up at Maglor with a curious tilt of his head as if waiting for him to elaborate. Maglor could see that surprise slowly giving way to hope, its shine burning bright in Celegorm’s eyes as he understood the implications of such a statement. “Has he really?”

“Rest assured, he’s had my help and Finno’s,” replied Maglor, “but the idea was not ours. Nelyo decided to try and after such a show of initiative, I could not say no. He’s making one incredible effort after another, and with every passing moment I see hope and determination shining all the more brightly in his eyes. It’s… It’s wonderful; I cannot use any other word to describe it.”

“You and your penchant for poetic words,” Celegorm chuckled, but he agreed with Maglor wholeheartedly. “Well, I’ll see for myself tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me, Huan and I are in need of rest so we will retire for the night.”

“Of course.” Maglor allowed himself a moment to bring Huan into a gentle and careful embrace, which earned him several licks and nuzzles from the hound, before letting him join Celegorm’s side again. “Oh, any news about those final improvements on the brace Curvo mentioned?”

“Well,” Celegorm smirked and clapped a hand on Maglor’s shoulder, “you’ll have to wait till morning to hear about them. You should get some rest as well; it’s late.”

With a cordial nod and farewell, they bid each other a good night before retiring to their respective tents. To Maglor’s relief, Maedhros had only moved to lie on his side and bring the blankets up to his chin, and Maglor could have sworn there was a mere ghost of a smile on his brother’s face.

He could only hope Maedhros was dreaming of peaceful things.

\-------

True to their word, Celegorm and Curufin were at Maedhros’ tent shortly after dawn to fit Maedhros with the final form of the brace. With the condition of his shoulder showing major improvements, the brace had decreased in complexity, to the point where current rearrangement of its components would yield maximum results with minimum inconvenience. So as not to Maedhros in the dark about its effects, Curufin explained as the adjustments went along, and to their relief they had Maedhros’ undivided attention.

“You see the sleeve of the brace effectively spans the entirety of your shoulder, from the midpoint of the upper arm to the trapezius. Now Turko is going to bind it with this length of leather – fret not, both the sleeve and the strap are padded— first around the arm and shoulder, which will make the sleeve feel snug against you skin, even compressing it. Do you feel it, Nelyo? Make sure you feel it’s tight – not excessively, we don’t want to hinder your blood circulation, but enough to cause you some initial discomfort.”

Maedhros looked down at the sleeve and the leather strap Celegorm was wrapping around it, his brow gradually furrowing as said discomfort began flaring up. “Yeah, it feels tight… and uncomfortable.”

“It will pass, but it’s necessary that it remains like this,” came Celegorm’s voice from behind him. “When injuries of this sort are sustained, the affected area loses some of its sensitivity because of damaged nervous receptors in your muscles. We believe that by having this padded sleeve put pressure on your shoulder, this compression on the skin can make up for the damaged receptors and give you back some degree of awareness as to the state of your muscles, like how much force they are applying and in which position they are holding your arm. Do you understand?”

“…somewhat,” murmured Maedhros, which prompted a chuckle from Curufin. “I-I get the basic idea, though! Last time I practiced embroidery with Moryo, he sat by my side and bumped his shoulder against mine on accident. I only knew he had done it because he apologized.”

“Well, such things won’t go unnoticed with the brace on, hopefully.” Curufin took the strap from Celegorm and wound its remaining length across Maedhros’ chest and abdomen. “This strap running diagonally across your chest needs to be somewhat tight as well for the supporting effect to work but before I fasten it at your side, I want you to take a few deep breaths and tell me if your breathing feels constricted in any way.”

Maedhros did as he was told, inhaling as much air as his lung capacity would allow, and with closed eyes he judged the feel of the motions. “It feels fine. I can breathe okay.”

“That’s very good,” said Curufin as he fastened the strap at his brother’s side. “It’s simple, but I am fairly confident this will help with the final stages of recovery. In the long run, it will provide the stability that the joint needs and given that it will restrict your degree of movement, Nelyo, the risk of further injury will decrease considerably. Now if it’s alright with you, we’d like for you to perform some test exercises.”

Maedhros nodded vigorously. “Like I did with the other brace, yes?”

“Yes, just like those,” agreed Celegorm, “but you need to be especially careful this time and focus on what you’re doing and how your shoulder moves and reacts to those movements. Do not judge your motions on a correct-or-incorrect basis just yet; rather, focus your attention on how they feel and how much you can move your arm, and don’t overdo it.”

Unprompted, Maedhros slowly abducted his arm, and it didn’t take him long to notice the limits of his range of motion. So as to have some basis for comparison, he did the same with his healthy arm, doing exactly as Celegorm had instructed and paying close attention to the movement of his muscles. He found it somewhat disheartening, just how limited his right shoulder felt compared to the left one, but he didn’t dwell on it for long; at the very least, he still retained the use of his right arm, however little said use may be. Instead he focused on performing the exercises, mindful of how his shoulder reacted with every attempt at motion.

“When I move my arm, it feels like there’s something tugging at it and keeping me from moving too much… That’s what the strap across my chest is for, right?” asked Maedhros, looking questioningly at Curufin.

“Indeed. For example, the deltoid is greatly involved in abduction – the movement you tried first – and while it has healed adequately, the muscle has lost some of its capacity, as well as its strength, to carry out the motion on its own. Because of this decrease in muscle strength, it will take the deltoid considerably more effort to abduct your arm, and certain positions and angles may cause you pain. The tension on the strap that is fitted across your shoulder and chest acts as a counterforce and offers resistance that your arms has to, let’s say, compete with. Not only does it limit your range and speed of motion; it also helps you regain some strength. That’s why the strap needed to be tight in the first place.”

An uncertain silence came from Maedhros, the lightly puzzled look on his face a clear sign that he was trying to keep up with everything Curufin was saying, but eventually he nodded as the pieces fell into place and made sense. “Okay… I’ll be careful not to move it too much yet. And you said I had to wear this one forever, right?”

“Exactly, Nelyo.”

“Okay.” The small tinge of sadness in Maedhros’ tone did not go unnoticed.

“But nevertheless,” Curufin rushed to add, “consider the next two weeks a trial period and at the end of it, I’ll make any adjustments that you feel are necessary. The brace will help, trust me.”

Maedhros nodded. “And I know, Curvo, and yet… I thought it would be alright, just like my left shoulder is. I also know that my injury has been… terrible and my muscles very difficult to set aright, but for some reason I _still_ thought that it could go back to normal.” He ducked his head, a sorrowful sigh leaving him. “I still thought that _I_ could go back to normal.”

“And you _are_ , Nelyo,” said Celegorm, resting a hand on his brother’s good shoulder. “You are going back to normal, but with some inevitable changes that have stemmed from the condition you have just recovered from. Though speaking of normal, Moryo told me that you are doing infinitely better with your needlework and that the deftness of your left hand is commendable.” The praise brought a gentle smile to Maedhros’ face, and Celegorm was encouraged to continue speaking. “You’re regaining use of your hand and your non-dominant one, no less, to the point where you can do things that the rest of us do in a day-to-day basis with great ease. I’d say that constitutes going back to normal.

“And what about writing? True, Curvo has had to teach you how to do it again, but now you are as skilled as you were with your right hand – perhaps even more so. You can also sit up, eat on your own, dress yourself, and all with the slightest amount of help. And consider: save for the occasional bad dream, you now sleep as calmly as the rest of us; I’d say that also counts as going back to normal, don’t you think?

“Do not doubt yourself, Nelyo, or let any circumstance bring you down: you can make it through this,” said Celegorm with a smile of his own, “and whenever you feel you’re falling behind, that you can’t do it, we’ll be there to help you.”

Maedhros stared at his brother, eyes wide and full of emotion, and slowly he turned his gaze to Curufin, from whom he received a resolute and reassuring nod. Celegorm soon noticed tears glistening in Maedhros’ eyes and feared he would burst into tears, but instead he found himself with Maedhros’ arm around his waist holding him close, cheek pressed against his shoulder and eyes tightly clenched shut. The embrace was genuinely grateful, far more than a thousand words of thanks could ever be.

And as he saw Curufin smile, Celegorm did the same and brought his arms around Maedhros, holding him in a gentle and warm embrace. It was such a heartwarming gesture, something that Celegorm had feared would not ever happen again; leave it up to Maedhros to prove his fears and assumptions wrong, like he always had.

To his brother he clung like his life depended on it, and Maedhros did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I wasn't (and still aren't) quite satisfied with this chapter, I couldn't bring myself to edit it further. Whether it was a good chapter or not, I will leave it up to you to decide. Until the next update!


	3. From the heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter is here at last! My writer's block finally decided to cut me some slack and give me back the motivation I needed to finish this piece. As an extra note: while I have been putting up little songs in the notes that suit the themes of each chapter, the overarching theme of this story is 'Wait For Me' by Kings of Leon, which is where I so conveniently took the title from. You can listen to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MC8QcaMMVQE) if you so wish to.

* * *

 

Days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and the passing of time brought with itself a much belated measure of joy in the form of a fully healed Maedhros. His body was once more hale and hearty; in many aspects it was noticeable how his current state of health was even better than the one before his capture, something that surprised some and awed many others. The torment the Enemy had inflicted upon him had been terrible and vile and despicable in nature; it had reduced him to a shadow of his former self, and still Maedhros rose from it like a fiery bird from its ashes.

With time, Maedhros took to sword fighting again with the purpose of regaining the skills now lost alongside his missing hand, but it wasn’t long until he improved upon that which he already knew. He was still fleet of foot and in terms of agility he was soon up to par with Curufin, and was even more deft and skilled with his left hand than he had been ever with his right. But the glaring difference in his current fighting style was the _intent_ in Maedhros’ movements. Be it friendly sparring or a more serious fight, he made no distinction: to him, either situation meant he was facing his enemy, and he acted accordingly. He put every ounce of strength he could muster into his blows, sometimes unconsciously and sometimes not, and he was often unrelenting, _unbeatable_ , as if exertion was now a foreign concept to him.

The flame that been rekindled during his recovery had now morphed into a bonfire, and it burned in his eyes with frightening intensity.

Despite the sudden change in his persona, it was luckily reserved only for training situations, and the rest of the time he was the amiable Maedhros they had always known. He wished to know of the land and its people beyond that which he had been taught in his lessons, and alongside Maglor he spent the better part of his days among his kin. At long last, the world outside his tent was more than just words, lessons and descriptive paragraphs in books: it was real, and Maedhros reveled in it. Many were relieved to see him in good health; others, like the younger children, were unsettled because of the scars Maedhros bore, but he treated all with equal kindness, befriending them with ease.

And yet everything in this world had its opposite: for while Maedhros had not entirely lost his desire to socialize, there were days in which he spent the better part of his time away from the camp, exploring the surrounding areas on his own, turning down every offer of company. Such lonely days always started with him rising before the sun to witness the new dawn from atop the nearest hill, and then he would not be seen until early in the afternoon. Maglor couldn't help but worry, questioning whether it was wise to let Maedhros roam at his leisure, but Celegorm - and eventually Maedhros himself - put his concerns to rest.

On the first sunny afternoon after weeks of covered skies, however, Maedhros did not show up at his usual time. Unease spread among the brothers like wildfire and determined to find him, Maglor and Caranthir set out eastward, toward the lake, and the sight that eventually welcomed them almost made their hearts leap in their chests with joy. From afar they watched Maedhros playing by the shore with a group of children, who had dissolved into laughter as they splashed water at each other and in all directions. Maedhros himself showed no signs of hesitation as he retaliated, sending some of the children running away; those that were brave enough to continue found themselves following suit soon afterwards, Maedhros close behind as he gave chase to them.

To Maglor's further amusement, Caranthir took off in pursuit of Maedhros, who started running even faster upon realizing Caranthir was hot on his trail; that turn in the tables seemed to declare Caranthir as the little ones' hero, because the air was soon filled with cries of 'Get him! Get him!' as he gained up on Maedhros. Soon Maedhros slowed down, only because he knew what Caranthir was about to do; this had happened enough times in the past, and he was fully prepared: as Caranthir jumped onto his back, immediately trying to wrestle his brother to the ground, Maedhros pivoted and allowed himself to fall, leaving Caranthir to take the full brunt of the impact. As they lay on the ground, Maedhros half-sprawled on top of the other, Caranthir cradled the back of his head with his arms, his face scrunched up in pain.

Maedhros, on the other hand, quickly sat up and offered his hand out to the fallen Caranthir.

"Are you two quite done yet?" came Maglor's amused voice from the side as he approached them. As Caranthir sat upright on his own, Maglor knelt by Maedhros and touched a hand to his right shoulder. "I thought you said you would be careful with your shoulder, Nelyo."

"And I _am_ ," said Maedhros. "I wouldn't have done anything if I wasn't sure I could handle it. Besides, Moryo cushioned most of the fall; it wasn't so bad." He could feel Caranthir's narrowed eyes boring a hole on the side of his head, even as his semi-serious expression slowly dissolved into a small smile. "Though I admit... after getting used to the brace, sometimes it's ridiculously easy to forget it is there. It's almost as if it has become a part of me now."

"Surely that's what Curvo was aiming for when he redesigned it."

A moment of silence fell between the brothers as they sat in the gentle breeze, but their quite didn't last long as the children goodbye waved at Maedhros and headed back to the camp.

"You're making the children here quite happy," said Maglor with a little smile. "It's good to see you haven't lost your touch."

"He had experience with us six; I'm sure that was enough."

Maedhros smiled at Caranthir. "Aye, most definitely. Being around them... It feels good; it… it takes my mind away from things, even if…”

A fleeting moment of unease passed through his features as his sentence went unfinished and his brow creased, giving Maglor and Caranthir an idea of how children had become a sensitive subject to speak of. During his moment of pause, he looked down at his hand — _the warmth of their blood among the cold of the dungeon_ — and yet he continued, albeit with a weaker voice

“At first, it brought memories of what I did… but I managed to convince myself that I wouldn’t harm them – that I wouldn’t be _forced_ to, that I am among friends now. An odd thing to say, I’m sure, but—” A heavy sigh made its way past his lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dwelling on this anymore, I just—"

Maglor touched a gentle hand to his brother’s shoulder. “Nelyo, you need not explain yourself to us. Neither Moryo nor I have the right to criticize whatever way of coping you find appropriate: it is your choice to deal with the past as you find it best.”

Maedhros nodded, finding reassurance in those words.

“But to see that the damage caused holds little to no sway over you anymore…” Caranthir left his words to hang in the air and understanding the message in them, Maedhros smiled.

“It’s difficult sometimes, especially at night still,” he admitted. “That I’ve healed doesn’t mean that the damage isn't there anymore – many are the times when I can feel the shadow looming over me, threatening to dash everything to pieces… but then I remember.”

“What do you remember?”

He didn’t immediately give an answer, allowing himself to reminisce and take comfort in the memory. Rather than a dream, it had been a prediction of what he would encounter if he chose to step into the light, and in no aspect had it been wrong. He had vowed to act upon his newfound determination and while it had been tested, alongside his patience, it had also brought him great reward: smiles and friendly attitudes as his kin welcomed him, love and brotherly hugs as he walked among his family again.

And to think he had almost chosen to give up entirely.

Maedhros glanced at Maglor and his smile mellowed, a tender look appearing on his face as he reminisced. “A dream I had. My turning point. Out of all the dreams I’ve had, it is the one that I remember the most clearly and fondly: I see everything I've done until now, but I _always_ focus on the best things... All of you, helping me; the people at the camp, smiling at me... And I realize just _how_ close I was to throwing it all away and giving up.”

He chuckled. "I sometimes feel ashamed for getting to that extreme... but then I feel grateful that I didn't go through with it. And I'm also grateful that you convinced me not to give up."

"Nelyo, you're our big brother and, being perfectly honest, you're also the one thing that's keeping us together. We couldn't lose you; we could not _afford_ to. Losing father was enough, I think; we didn't need that happening to you as well."

Maedhros looked up to find Caranthir staring at him with such warmth in his eyes that Maedhros was moved. Caranthir had always been the most expressive one among them, for the good and the bad, and it was in moments like these that Maedhros was glad for it.

"Thank you, both of you."

He saw Maglor and Caranthir share a knowing look, gentle smiles on their faces, and Maedhros frowned lightly, curious as to what thoughts were going through his brothers' minds.

"Thank _you_ , Nelyo," said Maglor, taking Maedhros' hand.

"...why?"

"For coming back."

As Caranthir brought an arm around his shoulders, Maedhros smiled.

\-------

Fingon couldn’t wait to get underway.

For the last two weeks, he had been exchanging letters with Maedhros, mostly at Fingon’s insistence: he wanted to keep tabs on his cousin’s condition at every moment, so messengers came and went every couple of days, bringing and delivering letters to the corresponding encampment. Maedhros had smiled at Fingon’s intentions, well-meaning and understandable as they were, and had eventually given in and indulged his cousin. Fingon didn’t regret being his usual stubborn self because Maedhros’ letters were not only a way of watching out for him, but they were also a source of tranquility.

Tensions between Fingon and his father had abated, albeit not completely, and yet Fingon found it did not bother him as much as he thought it would, even if he never had been fond of being at odds with his father. He had, after all, spoken his mind about how he felt about Maedhros and what had compelled him to brave enemy territory for his oldest cousin, and no narrow-eyed looks from Fingolfin would make him second guess himself. Not only was the young elf stubborn, but also willing to defend his beliefs and convictions – as Fingolfin knew very well, which was why curt exchanges of words had never escalated into anything else.

As of now, his presence in the camp was not needed, and so Fingon rode for the Fëanorian camp just as the sun began to set. His enthusiasm to see his cousin slowly morphed into unease as his arrival to the camp was met with the sight of Caranthir storming out of the tent that was undoubtedly Maedhros’, Celegorm and Curufin following suit shortly afterwards. None of the three brothers had seemed to notice his presence, and Fingon couldn’t help but think that it was for the best. With apprehensive steps he neared the flaps of Maedhros’ tent and he was about to enter before Maglor’s voice had him stopping to listen.

“They’ll see reason, Nelyo, I’m sure—”

“Tyelko and Curvo may, but Moryo is a whole other story! He harbors no love for Finno and his father, that much he has made clear in countless occasions, so I can’t expect him to agree with this decision of mine.”

“He will have to, just as all of us had to agree on…” Maglor’s voice faltered for an instant. “On leaving you behind, which was one of the hardest choices we have ever had to make. I understand the reasoning behind your decision and I agree with it; I have no wish to prolong the ill will between our families any further.”

“The blood running through our veins will make that resentment a difficult thing to appease.” Maedhros sighed, a heavy and tired sound. It was then that Fingon saw it convenient to interrupt and after a few knocks on the tent post, he ducked past the flaps. Maedhros looked up and flashed his cousin a genuine yet tired smile. “Finno! I was hoping you’d come!”

Despite the tension still lingering in the air, Fingon couldn’t hold back a smile of his own. “I said I would, didn’t I? You know I keep my word, Nelyo. It’s good to see you too, Káno.”

Maglor nodded his head. “The feeling is mutual. But it is getting late, and I’m afraid I must retire – there are plenty of things to do tomorrow.”

With polite but oddly curt goodbyes, Maglor left the tent, leaving Maedhros and Fingon in silence. That was until Maedhros collapsed onto the pile of cushions with another one of those tired sighs. “How much did you hear, Finno?”

As Fingon sat in front of Maedhros, he felt his stomach churn. “…enough to know that there’s been a disagreement between all of you.” Fingon could’ve sworn he was under Maedhros’ intense scrutiny, but it wasn’t long until his cousin’s scarred face relaxed and the stress on his features was made visible. “What happened, Nelyo?”

“I wish to waive my claim to kingship and relinquish it over to your father.”

Maedhros’ response was quick and snappy, to the point where Fingon had to close his eyes and reopen them to even _begin_ to digest the implications behind that. He saw not a hint of hesitation in Maedhros’ grey eyes, only steely resolution: there would be no way of dissuading him. And why try? With luck, Maedhros’ actions could ease the tensions between their families with one fell swoop, even foster peace should Fingolfin accept kingship without further fueling the flames of strife. Fingon wanted to believe that his father, while unlikely to forgive Fëanor’s descendants for their cruel deeds, would put his grievances aside for the good of the Noldor. But alas, such a decision was Fingolfin’s alone.

What disturbed him for a moment is how much he had come to doubt his father.

_I cannot help it. He was never as forgiving as uncle Arafinwë… but neither was he as resentful as Fëanáro could be. I can only hope Father sees that Nelyo means well._

“I did not mean to trouble you, Finno.” Maedhros’ voice, now calm, snapped Fingon out of his thoughts. “But it _is_ the reason behind the disagreement between my brothers and me. Káno supports my decision and Pityo decided to stay out of it: the argument between us got heated and he left the tent almost in tears; he couldn’t stand watching us argue so. Káno’s probably seeing to him now…” Maedhros pinched the bridge of his nose, his brow creasing with a frown. “The other three are being the most problematic.”

Fingon nodded in understanding. “I can guess why.”

“They readily defend that with Father dead, I should be next in line for the throne, but what they seem to forget is that Father claimed right to kingship with violence and rash action; in his words, 'Politics be damned when my tyrant half-brother thinks he can steal what belongs to me by right'. And even if I did assume my responsibility as Father's heir, I would not be a monarch with a gilded throne: I’d be taking up a bloodied crown and my rule would be built upon the bodies of those that died by our hand. How can the son of a murderer gain the favor of a wronged people?” Maedhros let out a bitter chuckle and leaned back on the cushions. “By throwing himself into Belegaer with a rock tied to his foot, perhaps.”

Fingon perked up at Maedhros’ particular brand of humor, horror clutching at his heart. “Nelyo, that’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, Finno. You’ll excuse me if my outlook on things is a bit darker than it was before, but you have to admit that the Noldor that support your father would rather cross Helcaraxë again than accept Fëanáro’s eldest son as their king – or any of his other sons, for that matter.” A long moment of silence passed before Maedhros sat up again, his eyes fixed on Fingon. “And neither would you, I suppose… For that, and for many other things, I must ask your forgiveness.”

“Maitimo…” Fingon’s brow creased in concern and as his voice trailed away, Maedhros was quiet himself. He seemed to be struggling with words, his grey eyes shining with sadness, and for a moment Fingon thought his cousin’s mood was about to change abruptly. “Maitimo, you don’t have to—”

Maedhros held up his hand, taking in a steadying breath. “But I _need_ to. For as long as you’ve been gone, and even before that… Something’s been burning in my chest and it felt so much more intense whenever I was in your company – as it does right now. Back in Losgar—”

Now it was Fingon that cut through Maedhros’ words, reaching to clasp his slender hand. “No, there’s no need to discuss this, Nelyo. It… It happened, but what’s important is that you’re here and that you are safe and sound.”

“I stood aside, I swear, but my father...” Maedhros lowered his head. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, Finno, not when you never left _me_ behind…” His voice shook, grief dripping from every word. “Not even now, when I have stood on the edge of despair and almost let it swallow me whole… You’ve been here, caring for me, showing me the kindness I am so undeserving of. And you could have ended my misery, even left me to die – a rotting corpse on the mountainside…”

The image that Maedhros’ words brought to his mind had Fingon shivering in terror, and with no hesitation he moved closer to Maedhros and brought an arm around his shoulders. Maedhros leaned against Fingon, silent, the unmistakeable traces of fallen tears marking his cheeks.

“You already know why I journeyed to find you, Nelyo, and you also know why you will forever have my friendship.” Maedhros straightened, ready to reply, but Fingon spoke before he could. “This is no time to think about the past, fresh as the memories may be in our minds; Father did enough to remind me of it once he knew of what I had done. I’d rather think about what is happening _now_ and what may come after this.”

“Let it be known that I have _never_ stopped thinking about you; even when I was in captivity, my thoughts were of you…” Maedhros sighed and dried the tear stains on his face, but his expression remained sullen. “I suppose there is nothing I can do to repay my debt to you.”

“You already have, Nelyo.”

“How?”

“You came back to us… to _me_. That’s more than enough.”

Fingon held Maedhros’ surprised gaze, smiling warmly at his cousin, and eventually Maedhros’ lips twitched into a smile of his own. Relief bloomed in Fingon’s chest, a warm feeling that spread throughout every inch of him, and with a gentle gesture he pushed back his cousin’s russet locks. Then, without a sign or gesture of warning, Maedhros leaned closer to press a brief but heartfelt kiss to Fingon’s blushing cheek. It hadn’t been the first kiss he had ever received from Maedhros, but in light of recent events, Fingon could not keep nervousness at bay, which showed in the questioning way he glanced at Maedhros.

“As an additional show of thanks, Finno.” Maedhros smiled, but such a sight didn’t last long. “But I wish I could look at you the way I did before.”

“What do you mean?” Oh, but Fingon knew _exactly_ what his cousin meant: their conversation was about to take a grave turn.

“You know that not only has my body been recovering, but my mind as well; hazy as many of my memories were, I forgot for a time what relationship I had with most of you. But eventually, out of some deep recess of my mind, I remembered… the gentleness of your fingers as they ran down my back, of the nights we spent together not only in friendship, but in love too. But I also remember how that became tainted with what they did to me, and the sensations morph into fire and I ache; the marks left upon my body and spirit burn with such terrifying intensity that I feel like I’m there again. And as much as I know that it would be you, that you wouldn’t hurt me…”

Seeing the troubled look in Maedhros’ eyes, Fingon gently clasped his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I never meant to insinuate that— I’d never, Nelyo. I wouldn’t even dare. The decision is yours, and I will respect it no matter what.”

Maedhros looked down at their joined hands and smiled faintly. “I know, Findekáno, and I am sorry for touching upon so uncomfortable a subject. But there are always things that, unless discussed, can fall prey to misinterpretation, and I would rather avoid that. Make no mistake now: I still feel for you, and perhaps one day...” He looked up again, the smile not only in his face but in his eyes. “Still friends, then?”

Fingon nodded. “ _Always_ , Maitimo.”

As if on cue, they heard knocks on the tent post and as they both stood, Maedhros allowed their visitors to step inside with a curt ‘Come in’. To Fingon’s surprise, the rest of the Fëanorian brothers were soon ducking through the tent flaps. Amras was close to Maglor’s side, sorrow drawn all over his features, while the other discernible group was that of Caranthir, Celegorm and Curufin. Beside Fingon, Maedhros held his head high, a serious look in his eyes as he greeted his brothers without a word.

Awkwardness crept up on Fingon as Caranthir’s gaze fell upon him and as fiercely intense as those eyes were, he held the Fëanorian’s scrutiny with a firm look of his own.

“He knows what this is about, Moryo, so you may speak freely,” said Maedhros, never looking away from his younger brother. Caranthir bristled, his brow creasing into a displeased scowl, and it was thanks to Celegorm’s swift intervention that Fingon never got to hear the vitriolic words Caranthir surely had ready for him.

“Reaching consensus hasn’t been easy, but we’ve nevertheless agreed to support your decision, brother.” Celegorm’s tone was smooth and calm, much unlike the look in his eyes, which clearly showed he still had his reservations. Beside him, Curufin crossed his arms, a gesture meant to emphasize his brother’s words. “You made valid points and it would be foolish, if not unwise, to ignore the truth behind them.”

“Besides, regardless of the dislike some of us may harbour towards our uncle’s family,” began Maglor, clearly making sure there was no accusation in his tone as Caranthir glanced at him, “there is one thing that we must not ever forget.”

“The Oath…” said Amras sadly, averting his eyes to the ground.

Maedhros’ countenance darkened. “We are all dangerous now. You all saw how Father guarded the Silmarils, how obsessed he became with them, and it became worse during our exile in Formenos… to the point of madness. Who is to say that whoever takes a Silmaril into their possession won’t suffer the same fate, refuse to give up what is rightfully ours? Neither of us can be next in the line of succession, for what self-respecting king spills the blood of his people for treasure? It would be unacceptable.”

“We will make enemies of many of our kin,” added Maglor, “but since we have just arrived to this land, I personally would rather forge an alliance with whosoever is willing to – and Nelyo’s decision to hand over kingship to Ñolofinwë is the wisest course of action. With time, it could mean the closing of the rift between our families.”

Fingon nodded. “And since I have been here for this part of the discussion, I will vouch for you when you speak to Father.” He made a small pause before speaking his part, choosing his words carefully in order to appease Caranthir’s disposition towards him. “I rescued your brother because he was and still is a dear friend of mine, in spite of what happened in the very recent past. But I also did it because I knew it could bring us all together again, uneasy as the agreement may be at first. I was never in this for glory or fame or because I had some ulterior motive; believe me when I say that I did it because I felt– I _knew_ it was the right thing.”

It was only then that he noticed how quiet Caranthir had been during the whole exchange; it was unsettling, to say the least, considering how renowned he was for his temper. He seemed to be turning things over in his head, as if trying to find something to say but ultimately failing to. Celegorm rested a hand on Caranthir’s shoulder and shared a long look with him, and that silent exchange was enough for Caranthir to let out a defeated sigh.

“Will there be a time in which we _actually_ agree on something?” he grumbled. “First with you, Nelyo, and now this. I _know_ it’s a foolish question to ask but—”

“These past few months have been stressful for all of us and even the smallest nuance can feel like a weight on our backs,” said Celegorm calmly, giving Caranthir’s shoulder a pat. “Don’t let it get to you.”

“It’s never stopped us, hasn’t it?” Amras spoke softly, looking at his brothers with hopeful eyes. “We have made it this far, all of us. It’s only natural that we keep on going, no matter what.”

Amras’ words did much to put brief smiles on their faces, and the mood in the tent lightened considerably. Pride shone in Curufin’s eyes as he glanced at Amras.

“Spoken like a true son of Fëanor. And look, I think we might be in agreement now, Moryo.” He emphasized his quip with a smirk, to which Caranthir responded with a short chuckle. “But Pityo speaks wisely. There’s much ahead of us we have yet to face, but since when have we faltered in the face of adversity?”

Maglor brought an arm around Amras’ shoulders, nodding at him in approval, which was a shared sentiment among the brothers.

“Then I believe it is settled,” spoke Maedhros then in a resolute voice. “I will send a messenger first thing in the morning to request an audience with your father, Finno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I promise the fourth one will be up as soon as humanly possible. See you then!


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